


Tom Holland x Reader

by Nyx Willowmoon (bookworm1320)



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), peter parker - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm1320/pseuds/Nyx%20Willowmoon
Summary: just some one-shots featuring you and tom holland/ peter parker.i take requests!!





	1. A lil' coffee shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently tom holland and peter parker are my new obsession and i just wanted to try out some story prompts so this my outlet! its not supposed to be good, just for fun! feel free to leave suggestions!

I nodded my head up and down to the beat blasting through my headphones, trying to finish the final paragraph of my essay. I felt someone shift into the seat at my solitary table. Out of all the places to sit in this coffee shop. Of course. Trying to ignore the intruder, I put my head down and kept typing up a storm. I heard the faint mumble of a male voice trying to start an unwanted conversation that slowly became more persistent until I sighed and pulled out my headphones. 

“Can I help you?” I didn’t try to hide the twinge of annoyance in my voice. 

“Can I buy you a coffee?” I looked up into the eyes of a man almost twice my age, with thinning hair and a sleazy smirk. 

“No, but I’ll take the money instead,” I snapped in return. As if I haven’t heard that one before. 

He started over, “Could I have your name?” 

“Why? Don’t you already have one?” My wit started to kick in, as well as my impatience. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an essay to finish and this encounter to forget. By the way, your comebacks have a smaller chance of actually working than your di-” Before I could finish my best comment yet, he grabbed my arm. Hard. “I see we have a smart-ass here. I’ll teach you to talk back.” I attempted to twist my arm from his clutches as he started to drag me from my chair. 

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A quite charming British accented voice rang out, “Let her go!” 

“Yeah, or what?” My harasser sneered. In reply, the stranger stepped forward threateningly. Before he could explain what he intended to do, I interrupted, as was my nature. “Or I’ll punch you so hard you fly back to the time when it was okay to harass women. Now get your disgusting hands off of me.” He did what I asked, but rougher than was necessary and I flew back into the table, stumbling to the ground. As he started to walk out the door, the rather attractive, polite stranger shoved him hard enough for him to stumble and turn back towards him, then earning a punch to the face. He scrambled out the door, looking back only once, a fearful look pasted on his face. After he was out of sight, the cute stranger offered me a hand. 

“Are you alright? Is your head okay?” he inquired, kneeling beside me, and cupping my face in his hands, brushing my hair away lightly, concern etched into his face. As I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time, I gasped. “You’re the Spider-man dude!” He chuckled, “That's me,” “Oh my god am I dreaming?” regretting the words the minute the flew out my mouth. He only laughed and extended hand to help me up. “Well, thank you. You didn’t need to stand up for me like that.” “Why wouldn’t I?” he looked adorably confused. “Well, I mean, look at everyone else,” I gestured at the nonchalant customers that surrounded us. Indifferent. “They don’t give a damn,” I shrugged. “I care. If that’s any condolence.” he took a step closer.

I grinned, and offered my hand, “Y/N” 

He shook it, “Tom,”

We stood there for a moment, until he bit his lip and muttered, “Do you maybe want company?” I pushed away the looming deadline for my essay and blushed. “Sure.” 

Hours later, we were still sitting at the same table, empty coffee cups scattered around us as I tried to teach him the art of sarcasm. The conversation lulled into comfortable silence. I covertly stole a glance at him, only to find he was already peering at me, his curly hair wrapped around his fingers. “I should probably go.” I began to stand and pack up my supplies, Tom following immediately behind. “Can I walk you?” he questioned, suddenly anxious. In reply I smiled and started walking towards the door, leaving him to trail me. The minute we exited the building light bulbs burst and voices shouted too many questions at us. I paused in panic, only to have Tom grab my hand and pull me away, shielding me with his body. 

Once we left them behind, I burst, “Oh my god. You have to deal with that everyday? Can’t you get a restraining order? Wait those don’t work on paparazzi. Sorry,” I rambled, “What’s up?” I demanded after seeing his face, stormy and unreachable. 

“I just feel bad. Now they’ll be after you. You’ll probably be attacked online. And it’s all my fault. I forgot-” he sighed, stopping to sit on the curb after I gestured we had arrived at my apartment. 

“Hey, look at me,” When he didn’t comply I placed a gentle hand on his cheek and turned him towards me. “It was all worth it.” I smiled, suddenly shy. “I can deal with a little hate, but just don’t feel bad. I had an amazing time today. So, thank you.”

“And-” he choked out, pulling his curls nervously. “Yeah?” I pressed.

“I was wondering- you don’t have to, but if you wanted to, go out to dinner?” He croaked. After a few seconds of my stunned silence he stammered, “Oh my god, you don’t want to. That’s okay, you can say no-” “I’d love to. See you Thursday night, 7 o'clock. Don’t be late, Tom Holland.” I smirked, standing up and walking towards my door. 

“Wait!” he called out. I turned, and he grabbed my hand and pecked me on the cheek. In bold response, I pressed my lips to his, ever so lightly, butterflies exploding in my stomach as he drew in a surprised breath. After a few seconds, I pulled away, cast him a dazzling smile, and scampered through my door, if only to sink against it the minute it was locked, unable to contain my happiness. I had just kissed Tom Holland. And he kissed me back.


	2. I like you too, stupid!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you rescue that hopeless spiderman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N your super hero name is Shock (so original, ik) and you control lightning

“I like you too, stupid!” 

Rubble rained down, threateningly close. You blasted them away with a simple flick of your wrist and started to stride towards the cackling Inferno, who thrashed his flaming arms back and forth, so close you could acutely feel them hurtle past. Your powers surged forward, blasting him with a bolt of lightning. He reciprocated with deluge of blazing heat. It was a blurred and unhinged dance, one false step and you were finished. 

You were pretty sure you had it in the bag, you had almost cornered Inferno when you felt someone land beside you. The moment it took you to locate the interruption left you confused and vulnerable. Fire licked up your arm and you shouted in pain. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” said the newly arrived Spiderman, apologetic. 

“Why-” you sent a bolt of lightning, “are you here? It was over. I don’t need your help.”

Your “companion” shot a bundle of webs and flipped out of the way as Inferno replied with sparks. “Doesn’t look like you have it under control.” he smirked, or at least, you detected the condescension in his voice. 

“Until you came. Don’t you have an old lady to help cross the street or something?” you panted, the burns starting to, well, burn. Inferno took this opportunity to hurtle towards you, Peter quickly delayed him, enough for you to shock him back. 

“Oh my god that was so cool!” Spiderman almost squealed. 

You and your sort-of-savior stood, pressed back-to-back. Shock and Spiderman. An iconic duo in the eye of the public. “Fine, let's do this.” You allowed. 

Combining lightning and webs proved to be more effective than one might think, and you easily began to overcome their opposer. Friendly banter mixed in with grunts and gasps. “That was...stupid.” “Oh, shut up.” 

Finally the battle seemed to be concluded, Inferno encircled by webs and trembling with violet electricity. You turned to face Spiderman, “Thanks, I guess,” thankfully he couldn’t see your face when he replied, “Of course,” and reached to thumb away some ash on your mask. You turned a violent shade of pink, and your heart started racing faster than after a double shot of espresso. He held the caress a little longer than necessary as you leaned into his hand. 

That’s when everything went wrong.

He was fiercely blasted away from you with a plume of fire. You screamed as he hit a wall with a resounding smash. You pivoted and let out your most intense bolt of lightning yet, striking the chortling Inferno into oblivion. Not even pausing to survey your destruction, you ran to Spiderman who lay in an unmoving heap. “No, no, no!” you panicked, your hands shaking and tears turning the dismal scene into a kaleidoscope in front of you. The panic subsided marginally as you noted the unsteady rise and fall of his breaths. 

You leaned back on your heels, until you made up your mind. You had to make sure he’d be okay. If only for his powers. That was it. Not that your heart fluttered in a not-so-undesirable way when ever he looked at you, or that in truth, you had been grateful when he showed up. No, not that at all. 

You hoisted his limp figure over your shoulders, your muscles, developed from years of training, straining. You used your lightning to transport you home. Pleased to observe your parents weren’t home for the night, you pried open your bedroom window and rolled in after your unconscious comrade. Despite the circumstances, it was kind of funny, as he landed with a resounding thump on your floor. 

After a ten-minute struggle of determined shoving, Spiderman was finally lying on your bed. You had no clue what to do next. You busied yourself in peeling off his suit, taking care to leave the mask in place. You had no intent to reveal his identity. He deserved that much. Once the suit came off, he was left in his boxers. 

Concern kicked in. Much of his abdomen was charred, and coated in sticky blood. His skin was dull and feverish. Steeling yourself, you grabbed a washcloth and began to clean his wounds. It was to be said that it was rather difficult to see in your mask, and it proved more arduous than you had originally thought. Half an hour later, you had made some progress, though how much was up to speculation. 

He began to stir. He moaned pitifully and started to trash about. You held him down until he sat up, shrugging you off, gasping. And before you could protest he pulled off his mask, revealing a head of golden copper hair, a charming mouth and eyes that took your breath away. Plus a tomato red face. 

It was Peter Parker. You recognized him from your History class last year. You stared at each other in surprise. 

“Where am I?” he demanded the cliché, struggling for breath. You started to explain whilst easing him back down. “Oh,” he simply replied once you had finished. “I’m sorry, it was my fault-” you wring your hands, a nervous habit. “Don’t apologize. Uh, thank you, by the way.” In acknowledgment, you returned to your doctoring. 

He watched you meticulously mend every burn, bruise and cut that adorned his skin. He smiled in shy adoration as you bit your lip and stuck out your tongue in absorption. Your glances intertwining occasionally. Finally done, you leaned back. 

“Thank you, for everything. I don’t think there’s a scrape left on my body.” he joked. Now that you looked at him, it was hard to deny. He was rather irresistible.

“Thank you, for saving me, or whatever,” trailing off as you met his eyes, you rebounded, “Why’d you take off your mask?”

“I figured my savior deserved a face reveal…?” it was more of a question than a statement. After observing that you were nonplussed, he continued, “Plus, I recognized your voice from 5th period History last year. You always raised your hand. I remember, I loved your voice. Still do.” 

You sat in stunned silence before giving in, and shedding your mask as well. Peter’s mouth formed a soft “wow” as he took in your mussed hair, and surely red cheeks. 

“So...” 

“So,”

“Hi,”

“Hi,” 

“I think you need to stay here tonight.” your cheek flushed at the words. “Just so I can monitor your burns and fever.” 

“Ok,” he complied, 

“So how’d you become Shock?” 

And so you talked about small nothings, and big somethings until the rosy tendrils of dawn started to paint the horizon. You found yourself feeling… comfortable. And safe for the first time in months. You didn’t want it to end. Peter Parker seemed to have a hold on your heart. Though you wouldn’t admit it in a hundred years. 

After a brief inspection you deemed him recovered. As he slipped out your window he paused, “Um, I should tell you something.” he looked nervous. “Well, when I said I liked your voice, that that was why I remembered you, it was only half the truth. I remembered you… because… I liked you. I still do.” he trailed off shyly, then before you could reply, hauled himself quickly over the sill and web-shot to the next building over. 

Your heart was pounding in your ears, these situations were completely foreign to you. But you chose to take the leap. You stuck your head out your window and yelled, “Wait!” He turned, hand outstretched towards the next building. “I like you too, stupid!”   
Even from your perch, you could see his wide, dorky grin, as he waved once, and took off again. Pausing only twice, once to look back, his silhouette framed by the dawn; and once (though you could barely distinguish it) for a celebratory fist bump. You shook your head, your smile splitting your features, counting down the hours until you would see Spiderman again. Or if you were lucky, Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know what im doingggg
> 
> sorry this is total crap, its just kinda fun to write
> 
> leave kudos, comments and suggestions!
> 
> xoxo


	3. the media's mean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N oof im sorry for this absolute shit, idk it’s just kinda fluff? but im exhausted so it sucks?
> 
> warnings: bad writing?

You had never been happier. These past months, dating Tom had been a constant high. He was the one you had been looking for your whole life. Though his hours for filming were, at times, aggravating to say the least, you guys made it through. It was the little moments that made your relationship function: watching your favorite movies, cuddled under the same blanket; walking Tessa in the park conveniently adjacent to your shared apartment, hands intertwined; the endless conversation late at night, where all secrets were spilled, all fears, all hopes and dreams, his in an irresistible accent.

But it wasn’t all soft butterfly kisses and traveling the world for countless press tours.

The media was vicious and you didn’t have the thick skin developed by actors over years of practice. When you met Tom at a meet-and-greet and sparks flew instantly, resulting in an exchange of numbers and eventually a first date that developed into a full-blown relationship, you had been thrown into the limelight without a word of warning. And it was worth it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

With such a big fanbase full of fangirls who believed they all had laid claim to Tom, a serious girlfriend wasn’t exactly welcomed.

You sat on your bed, biting your nails as you read through the comments on your newest post with you and Tom.

"Ew she’s so fat and ugly."

"Gross."

"She doesn’t deserve him."

"He won’t stay with a loser like her."

You couldn’t help it. Tears sprang to your eyes. It was too much. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were right.

You didn’t discern the sound of the door opening and closing, signifying he was home. Tom walked into the bedroom, noting the tears in your eyes and your screen open to the abhorrent criticism.

“Oh love,” he gathered you in his arms, which was enough to dispel the tears, but not the clutch of anxiety.

“You can’t listen to those people y/n. You have to know they’re just jealous. It’s all lies, I promise.” you nodded, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. He lifted your chin, “Look at me,” you complied. “You are the most beautiful, amazing, intelligent person I’ve ever met. And I don’t deserve you in the slightest.”

You knew he meant well, and while his words lessened the burden, you knew you would continue to receive the cruel comments.

The next day Tom had a big interview with Teen Vogue. You agreed to come back-set with him, to provide moral support and what-not. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw your boyfriend cracking jokes, and answering questions with ease, truly in his natural habitat on camera. Unbothered, untouchable. If only you could be the same way…

“So, Tom, we caught wind of a new girlfriend? Can you deny or confirm that?”

Your head perked up, and you caught Tom’s playful grin fade to something softer, his eyes never left yours as he replied.

“Yeah, yeah, I can confirm that.”

“Oh! Anything you’d like to say about this lucky lady?”

“Yes, actually. She is truly the light of my life. She is smart. Crazy smart. She makes me laugh all the time. No matter how many roles I have to play, how many masks I have to wear, quite literally, she is the only person I can genuinely be myself around. Also, I mean it doesn’t matter but she’s gorgeous. Like, her smile, her eyes. She just blows me away and she doesn’t even know it. She gets me through the day, she taught me to love, y’know? And she gets way more hate than she deserves. She’s done nothing but made me a better person, and if anyone has a problem with her, then take it to me, not her. If I could have one wish, it would be that she could see herself the way I see her. Then she’d realize how special she is. She is the best person in my life, and I hope she knows that.” he finished his ramble with a goofy grin, aimed right through your heart.

The rest of the interview passed in a blur, his words just bouncing around in your head, ensuing a ridiculously large smile.

You hadn’t realized the interview had been concluded until Tom came bounding over to you. After he had enveloped you in his arms, you pulled back. 

“You know, you need to stop doing that,” you smirked, draping your arms around his neck.

“Stop what?” he cocked his head in confusion, cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline of the cameras.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you,”

“In that case, I don’t think I’ll ever stop,” he chuckled, leaning in.

“Wait,” you pushed him away, “thank you, for everything. I needed that.”

And with that, you pulled him in, smiling against his lips. You felt safe, knowing that no matter what, through all the hate, he’d be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave requesttssssss


	4. home with the hollands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which you go home with tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for you @marvel_bitcchh
> 
> hope this is what you wanted!

Your hands shook as you gaped out the window. London was beautiful. But it’s allure was overshadowed by the impending doom. Perhaps you were being dramatic, except, meeting your boyfriend of six months parents seemed like an acceptable reason to get a bit tense. Nevermind that your boyfriend was Tom Holland, and his whole family could be considered famous. Oh, and the fact that he had probably brought home countless attractive and famous girls. Girls you couldn’t hold a candle to. Forget about it. You were panicking.

Tom, observing your distress reached out, gathering your hands in his own, grounding you. “They’ll love you. I promise,” In return you smiled weakly.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, remember when I met your parents?” he chuckled in attempt to lighten your anxiety. “Oh god, I remember. Trust me. But they called me yesterday to say they loved you, despite you breaking my mom’s oldest china.” You replied, giggling as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

As you pulled up to the Holland’s charming house, Tom leaned over to help you unbuckle, and exit the car. “Don’t worry, I think I’ve chatted you up enough. There’s no way they won’t adore you. My mom already talks about you like she knows you’ll be the daughter she never had.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “And remember that I love you, and I’m so glad you agreed to do this.” 

Then you had grabbed your luggage, paid the taxi, and you were standing in front of the door. It swung open, and you and Tom took a stride into the foyer, hand-in-hand. 

Immediately Tom was tackled by two gangly boys. They must have been Sam and Harry. You had basically met them. Tom FaceTimed them once a week and you had joined in more than once. Once the reunited brothers had extracted themselves from their pile, they immediately turned to you. 

“Ay, you brought Y/N!” Harry grinned. “Hi! Wow you’re a lot shorter in person,” you smirked in return. Harry gasped in fake offense. 

Next, you twisted to greet Sam. “Hey Sam!” He returned the hello, “We finally get to meet the famous Y/N Y/L/N.” He presented you a bouquet of daisies, bright and colorful, rivaling the dreary weather outside. “Here’s a welcoming present.” Your heart swelled at this considerate gesture. “These are my favorite! Thank you so much!” you exclaimed. 

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl,” Harry winked, Sam shook his head in exasperation, while Tom pulled you against his side. “Stop trying to steal my girlfriend,” he play-growled, nuzzling his face into your hair. “She’s mine.”

You pushed away. “I belong to no man,” you giggled in mock-indignation. The boys’ “oohs,” were interrupted by a clattering from another room. 

“Tom? Is that you?” A woman’s voice rang out. The speaker quickly bustled into the room. A slim woman with fiery orange hair quickly enveloped Tom into her embrace. “Hi, mom!” She pulled away and did a double take, giving you a once over. “Y/N,” her smile melted off her face. Before you could respond, or even give her the bouquet you had bought for her, she was back in the kitchen. You glanced up at Tom to gauge whether he had picked up on the slight hostility his mom expressed. He was oblivious, smiling down at you. 

You caught a glimpse of a small boy, with a spattering of freckles. When your eyes met he started to shrink back into the shadows. “You must be Paddy! I’ve heard so much about you!” you exclaimed, walking forward to greet the youngest Holland. “I brought you something!” You pulled a pack of football cards from your back pocket. “Tom said you’d like these,” He nodded and thanked you enthusiastically. 

Dom shuffled around the corner to aide you with your bags. “Ah, Y/N, we’ve heard so much about you. You’re all Tom talks about. Jeez, what did you pack? Bricks?” he chuckled good naturedly as he hauled them up the stairs. You liked him immediately. As he showed you to your room, Tom trailing behind, he cracked countless jokes, easing the tension from earlier. 

The minute Dom closed the door after jokingly laying down the law of “no monkey business, yeah?” you flopped down on the bed, taking in the room. The room Tom had grown up in. There was nothing special about it, yet you found it endearing. Spiderman action figures lined his desk (what a dork) ; posters from old bands covered the walls; framed photographs of his family, friends and co-stars were placed on a shelf above his bed. As you looked closer, you saw that pictures of you took up the majority of the limited space. The one in the center you remembered like it was yesterday: it was just a few months after Tom had confessed his feelings for you, you were on a beach in LA where you had visited for his birthday. You were laughing, head thrown back onto Tom’s shoulder, his arm was encircling your waist and he was staring at you with so much adoration, you could practically feel the heat. 

You were drawn back to the present day as Tom flopped down next to you. You turned onto your side to look at him. “I don’t think your mom likes me,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

“What?!” he pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Why would you say that?” 

“She just didn’t seem happy to see me,” you realized you sounded paranoid, but you couldn’t help it. “Sorry, I sound stupid right now, it’s just my anxiety and-” he cut you off by wrapping you in his arms. “I know, I know. She’s just a little slow with new people. She’ll love you,” he coaxed, “Though not as much as I love you. That’s impossible,” You laughed, cheeks turing rosy. 

“I’m going to go see if she needs help with anything.” you withdrew from Tom’s arms, suddenly very cold. Before you exited, you looked back at your boyfriend, sprawled out on his childhood bed, fingers tapping furiously on his phone, eyes scrunched, his lip was between his teeth. You would go through anything, even suffer through awkward family dinners, for him, you realized as your heart swelled. 

As you padded downstairs, you heard muffled voices from the kitchen. You hesitated outside the doorway, not quite eavesdropping, but still hearing quiet sniffling. Peering around the corner, you saw Nicola perched on a stool, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. You meant to make a stealthy retreat from the all-too-private scene and return later, but of course you had to catch your foot on the rug, twisting in a full circle in attempt to catch yourself, only resulting in you crashing full force onto the tile floor of the Holland’s kitchen. 

Nicola gave a start, “Y/N! Are you ok?” You smiled sheepishly up at her. “Yeah, I’m all good thanks, I just thought I’d make a dramatic entrance, y’know?” you replied, standing up and brushing yourself off. Instead of acknowledging your feeble attempt at a joke, she turned away, her shoulders still shuddering. 

Your humor disappeared in a flash as you placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright? Anything you’d like to talk about?” What were you supposed to do in these types of situations? She let out a sob, 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just this is the day my mother died a few years ago and it’s a bit hard for me. And I don’t know, you just reminded me so much of her. She was beautiful and witty just like you. It’s just never a good day for me.” 

You were taken aback. Not really knowing what to do otherwise you gathered her into a hug. “I’m honored to be associated with someone like your mother,” you consoled, “I bet she’d be proud of you.” She responded with a watery smile. 

“Thank you Y/N, that means more than you know,” she paused, then snapped into action. “Now, let's get started on some dinner!” she clapped, her previous grief disappearing. 

You glimpsed Tom, who had observed the exchange. He was leaning against the doorway, a faint smile tracing his lips, his copper eyes shining warmly. When you caught his gaze you beamed, and spun back to face Nicola, who was calling in her boys to help her. Before the stampede arrived, she whispered in your ear, “If things work out the way I think they will, I would be ecstatic to have you as my daughter.” You blushed as she winked. 

Cooking dinner, all crammed into one kitchen was hectic, to say the least. Tom snuck as many kisses as possible, and the twins tried to start a food fight by sprinkling flour all in your hair, to which you and Paddy teamed up on them and chased them out the kitchen by shoving ice cubes down their shirts. You took instruction from Nicola, who had since not stopped smiling, joining in on the antics. Finally you all emerged from the kitchen with a meal fit to be on Food Network, covered in flour, and in the twins’ cases, sopping wet and shivering. 

The whole family collected around the table and you all immediately dug in. At first the conversation was mundane and you were content to just observe the dynamics of the family, Tom rubbing small circles on your back occasionally, his own way of checking in with you.

Dom suddenly shifted his attention to you, “So Y/N, tell me about yourself,” your anxiety started to spike, and you looked back at Tom, who nodded expectantly. So you started to talk animatley about your passion, you could feel your eyes lighting up, and your hands starting to wave around. You realized you were rambling so you started to fade off, but looking around at the family who were all listening intently, more so than anyone you had ever opened up to, you continued. 

The rest of dinner, the Hollands took turn asking you about your life, and your’s and Tom’s relationship. You found yourself loosening up, and truly feeling at home amongst the repartee. 

During dinner, Paddy had been griping about an English project, which happened to be your forté, so you coached him through it after the table was cleared. With your aide, you finished quickly and you went to find Tom. 

Once again you found yourself hidden in the shadows outside the kitchen doorway when you heard your name being mentioned. Tom and Nicola stood side-by-side at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water. “So, what do you think of Y/N?” Tom asked tentatively, “Because, mom, I think she’s the one. I’ve never been happier. I just have this feeling, like she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with,”

“Oh, Tom, that’s wonderful! I think you two are perfect for each other. I really love her,” Nicola turned towards her son. 

“Okay good, because, well, look,” Tom stuttered, pulling out a petite navy blue box. You had to check yourself as you let out a muted gasp. Thankfully, Nicola reacted the same way, jumping up and down like a child. 

“Tom! You’re getting married!” She squealed, to which Tom quickly shushed her. 

“Mom! She hasn’t even said yes yet,” 

“Oh, but she will,” she responded slyly, “Now what’s your plan?”

You slipped away before they could continue. You didn’t want to spoil the moment for both you and Tom. The minute you got to Tom’s room, you spun in a circle, overtook with adrenaline. He hadn’t even asked you, and you couldn’t stop beaming. A knock at the door interrupted your private celebration. It was Tom. 

“Hey, love,” he laughed, closing the door behind him, “Whatcha doing?” You turned bright red, “Oh, nothing,”

“How are you doing? What with meeting them, and-” you cut him off, with a kiss, suddenly very affectionate. “I freaking love your family,” He chuckled, “Good, I’m glad. Told you they’d adore you.”

Harry abruptly barged into the room, with Sam trailing behind, apologizing for his brother’s brashness. “You love birds wanna watch a movie?” 

And so you found yourself wrapped in a blanket with Tom, his ratty sweatshirt keeping you warm, watching an old horror movie. Paddy sat next to you, and you exchanged sarcastic comments. Harry would throw popcorn at you two every once and awhile to shut you up. As the movie progressed, you found yourself dozing off against Tom’s chest, he soothingly wound your hair around his fingers. 

In the fine line between dreams and reality, you glanced around. Though you had met them only today, you felt… safe... home, with the Hollands. Like you were already part of their family. And weeks later, it would be official.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave more requests! theyre really fun to write. 
> 
> as always comment and like
> 
> love you all!!


	5. promise me- p.p

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an infinity war au in which you're an avenger with Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowowow this took so long to write
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Sweat- or was it blood?- trickled down your spine and glued your hair to your bruised forehead. Your chest heaved for breath, trying to dispel the dust that choked your lungs. You were tired. Mind dumbing exhaustion hindered your thoughts to sluggish whispers. It burrowed deep into your bones. You weren’t sure you could defend yourself if Thanos turned to you or Peter.

You and Peter had been eager to escape the sorry excuse for a field trip to save the universe. Who wouldn’t? Your blind faith in the Avengers had led you to believe in them like you did in your parents when you were little. So sure that they could defeat anything in their path. But you weren’t so sure anymore. You weren’t even convinced you’d make it home this time.

You could tell that everyone was drained. Though the Avengers tried to keep their heads up and faces devoid of emotion, you could see the fear flickering in their eyes. The quiver in Tony’s voice as he attempted to bargain with Thanos told you all you needed to know. It was over.

You felt paralyzed as Thanos trained his powers on Tony. A life in exchange for a stone. That’s what it came down to. You shivered as the only father you had ever known braced himself for death. You begged yourself to move, shout, do anything, but you were stupefied, and so was Peter, who was frozen in fear besides you.

“Spare his life,”

You were thrown out of your stupor by a gravelly voice, dragging itself through the tense air. Whipping your head around to see Dr. Strange pulling himself to his feet.

“No,” you whispered. Dread pulling you forwards. It was too late. Disappointment contorted Tony’s face as Thanos added yet another Infinity Stone to his growing collection. Roaring with the new-found powers.

As quickly as he had appeared, Thanos began to disappear, off to retrieve the last stone in his set. Seconds before he vanished, he shifted, eyes narrowing cruelly and pulled a dagger out of seemingly thin air. You watched, time slowed to a crawl, as it spiraled towards Peter who, as always, was oblivious. The knife was moving fast. Too fast. It glinted in the red light of the sky. You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to. In one motion, you launched yourself towards the threat.

At first, you thought you had misjudged your leap. You couldn’t feel anything. You stood stock-still for a moment, before, with trembling hands, peeling away the shredded front of your suit, revealing a gaping wound, the dagger buried up to its ebony handle. Letting out an unsteady gasp, you gripped the handle and yanked it out, hissing in pain.

You remained standing there. Wincing as the agony began to set it. A burning sensation stole your breath and melted the cries for help on your tongue. Your spine curled forwards, trying to dispel the suffocating hurt.

Picturing Peter’s petrified face at the chance of losing you sobered you up. The only thing you could think to do was pretend. Pretend to be fine, until you could get to Tony. Tony could fix you. Tony could fix anything.

You pivoted painfully slow, arms crossed over your abdomen. You were greeted with toxic silence. A raspy breath escaped your throat as you witnessed Star-Lord fade to ash. A quick tally told you that the same fate had stolen Drax and Mantis.

What was happening?

You picked your way over to Peter, who was staring, face ashen at the remains of your new friends. You took his clammy hand in your own as Dr. Strange muttered his concluding words to a reeling Tony Stark, and disintegrated.

Who was next?

You could do nothing but grip Peter’s hand harder, anchoring you both, swaying at the stab of pain it brought on. He trained his gaze on you, disoriented.  
“You okay?” He tenderly pulled the mask from your head and brushed the hair from your eyes, his hand lingered, cupping your cheek. You leaned into him nodding. You could stay like that forever.

“You?” you murmured into his hand.

“I do feel a little weird, but I think I’m good.” You took his face in your hands, “Don’t disappear on me, okay?” You only half-joked. The thought of losing him turned your stomach. His slow smile eased your anxiety. 

After a few minutes had trickled by, you and Peter made yourself to Tony, who had planted himself firmly on the rough ground.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter stepped forward, letting your hand fall to your side.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Tony sighed, picking himself up, dissolving the Iron Suit to reveal a form-fitting black turtleneck.

“We, uh, we survived! Shit, I didn’t think we’d make it. I mean, but, Drax and Mantis and Doctor-” he scratched the back of his head, sheepishly fading off at the anguished look on Tony’s face. “Right, uh, so how do we get home Mr. Stark? I could, like, I dunno. We’ll figure it out,” He shifted foot-to-foot restlessly. You couldn’t help but smile sadly at his eagerness. Apparently neither could Tony, who brightened up for the sake of the two teenagers.

“Well, that’s a good question-” Iron Man’s reply was drowned out by the flash of pain that set your vision blotchy. You doubled over, lungs suddenly devoid of air. You found yourself on the ground, knees stinging as they pressed into the destroyed earth. There was a persistent buzzing in your ear.

No. You couldn’t go like this.

Peter observed the smile melt off Tony’s face as he stared over his adolescent companion’s shoulder, and felt dread coil itself in the pit of his stomach, his Spidey-sense sending shivers down his spine, as he turned in time to see you crumple to the ground. He let out a strangled shout and rushed to your side, stumbling on the rocky outcrops.

You surfaced from half-consciousness to see concern etched on Tony’s face, and alarm and confusing mangling Peter’s. Your heart clenched painfully. You fell backward feeling your head land in your boyfriend’s lap. He immediately scooped you into his arms, but the sudden motion caused you to cry out in agony.  
Peter’s tentative hands began to lift your now-bloodstained suit. “No, Pete,” you whispered, but he persisted and with Tony’s help, your wound was exposed.

“Y/N,” Tony's whisper intertwined with Peter’s stifled yelp.

“I-I’m sorry.” you forced out. Tony took a step backward as Peter frantically tried to cease the gush of blood, his hands trembling too much to do much help. “No, no, Y/N, don’t do this. Hold on, Y/N please,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “You can’t leave me. You can’t leave me like everyone else has, please. It’s not over. We’re not done. You hear me?” Tears had started to drip from Peter’s eyes, the eyes that had enticed you from the day you met in the compound, wetting your cheeks, mingling with your own. Fear had stifled his words. You opened your mouth, trying to convey everything you had to say, but it felt as if you were drowning in pain and tears.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” your boyfriend coaxed. You complied, “Remember? We were gonna go home, and go on that road trip you wanted, I’ll even let you play your trash music okay? We were gonna graduate and see the world. You were gonna be a writer, and I was gonna open a sandwich shop right across from Delmar just to annoy him. I was going to bring you roses every day, and we were going to buy a flat and live happily ever after, remember? We’d be safe. You promised Y/N, you promised me you’d be okay. Please, I need you. You’re the only thing in my life I can count on. You’re my Juliet and I’m your Romeo, except we live. You’re gonna be okay-” He clutched you harder to his chest. Dust mingled with your desperate gasps and Peter’s unsteady pleas. 

You cut off his ramble, you couldn’t breathe. You were scared, terrified in fact. As a child, you always thought of death as some far off outcome. Out of sight and out of mind. You had always let yourself believe that you would grow old. Preferably with Peter at your side. Death hadn’t scared you. You hadn’t even thought of it.  
But now that it was staring you down, breathing down your neck, ticking off your last seconds, you found that you didn’t want to go. Not in the slightest. You could feel yourself slipping away. The edges of reality became hazy and blurred, but not peacefully. It was hard, and frosty and unyielding. 

“Peter, it’s so dark and cold. I’m so cold. I can’t- I can’t breathe. Peter, don’t let me go, please,” You implored, not quite knowing what you were asking for, “I don’t wanna go, I want to stay with you. I want to keep my promise, please, don’t let me go.” Tears were sticky on your face. 

“Tony! Tony, fix her! You have to help her,” his cries were shaky. Tony just shook his head sadly. He knew there was nothing he could do. “HELP ME!” Peter bellowed helplessly, still trying to staunch the blood flow. This was a battle he couldn’t fight for you.

“Pete, you have to live, you have to beat him, for me. Promise me. Promise me you’ll live for me,” you pleaded, reaching up to feel him, but your arm fell limply at your side. Peter shook his head, sobs racking his body, rocking you back and forth. Your heart hurt worse than the wound that was slowly killing you. You’re only goal had been to keep him safe. And here you were, hurting him more than any villain could.

“Y/N, no, it’s not over-”

“Remember me okay? Don’t forget to bring me roses every day. Don’t forget me, don’t let me die again.” You clutched his hands with all the strength you had left. You were fading, you could feel it. It was too late. The one thing you had always taken for granted, time, had finally run out. You were terrified as hell. But more-so for what you’d be leaving behind than what you were to face. “Promise you’ll remember I love-”

And then it was over. You were gone. Peter saw the life drain from your eyes, the fight ebbing out, reflecting the blood-stained sky. Your hands that had been clutching his went limp, and a soft, final gasp escaped your lips.

“No, no, Y/N, no,” Peter whispered hoarsely, slowly amounting to a scream. A scream that set the hairs on Tony’s arms on edge, that seemed to tear down the planet around his ears. A scream that carried too much pain, and the worst kind at that. Heartbreak.

For Peter, it felt as if his heart was physically being ripped from his chest. He felt as if his world had ended. And in a way, it had. You were gone. And it was his fault. He clutched your listless corpse. Rocking back and forth. Tears flowed freely now. He kept waiting. Waiting for you to open your eyes and flash your breathtaking smile and roll your shoulders like you always did whenever you woke up. You would kiss him on the cheek, leaving the lingering scent of your perfume. If he closed his eyes he could still feel you around him. It had been his job to protect you, to bring you home. His hunched shoulders shuddered violently with every breath and he let out an ugly sob, gasping for air.

Tony sat in shock, leaning against a pile of rubble. Hands trembling in his lap. You were gone. He had all but raised you, had been there for it all. Every loose tooth, every aggravating school dance, every nightmare, every laugh, every cry. He had been the one to save you, to teach you. This was his fault.  
A faint, “M-Mr Stark?” pulled him out of his grief. His heart all but stopped as he saw what Peter had needed. It started at his hands, then traveled up his body. Spiderman turned into dust as easily as slipping into sleep.

And with a final, “I’m sorry Y/N,” He was gone. At the mercy of the wind.

“I’m sorry,” Tony gasped, heart somewhere around his feet. He fell to his knees. Knowing that this was his fault. The two lovestruck teens’ stories were over before they could really even begin. It was over. He repeated the same two words over and over, trying to reverse the binding consequences, trying to fix the bullet wound with a band-aid.

“I’m sorry,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahha sorry guys, i had to mix in some agnst


	6. make it up to you- p.p

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which peter makes it up to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day! im either super active or forgot to post this one last week oops
> 
> also the notes arent in italics because this website is being difficult, so sorry
> 
> request: hey i was wondering if you could write a peter parker imagine where peter has been unintentionally ignoring her because his role as spider man and when he does finally speak to her she gets really upset and he realises what he’s done and makes it up to her.

It was nine o'clock. You had officially been waiting an hour and a half. You didn’t know why you were surprised. Peter hadn’t shown up the last two dates. But he had promised this time, said that nothing could keep him from their weekly Friday movie date. 

He had lied. 

You curled up under the countless blankets you had dragged from the closet just for Peter- he always complained about how cold he was. Sighing, you typed in his memorized number and listened to the droning ringtone. 

“Hey, this is Peter Parker please leave a- Y/N stop laughing, I’m trying to record something- please leave a message. Oh, shut up,” Your heart ached a little as you heard your laugh intertwining with Peter’s, and then a click and a beep, your voices cut off. 

“Peter, it’s me. Again. I’m trying really hard not to be mad, but where are you? You swore tonight would be different, and… I’m kinda done. I can’t always be second place. You- you should be here. Okay… bye.” You hung up, tears threatening to spill out. Peter had never been one to squander emotions. He always reminded you how much you meant to him, and yet, you were beginning to question how much you really meant if he couldn’t be bothered to show up to one measly date… 

Bleakness turned to red-hot anger as you swept the meticulously arranged snacks off the end table. They clattered to the ground, piling in a mess you knew you would have to pick up the next morning. Storming into your room, you gathered all of Peter’s little mementos: his favorite, overlarge sweatshirt that you always slept with on nights he wasn’t there; all the textbooks he left overnight; candid polaroids of him laughing; flowers from your first date; countless trinkets he had gifted you. 

Within ten minutes you had a box full to the brim with memoirs of a love-lost. Reaching up to brush a tendril of hair that had loosened from your hasty bun, you found your cheek was wet with tears you hadn’t even realized you were shedding. 

Suddenly exhausted beyond the activities of the night, you collapsed onto your bed. Shoulders starting to shake with sobs as you looked at your phone one last time. Fingers flying as you typed. 

I can’t do this anymore. Not with you. I can’t chase after you forever. I can’t be last priority. We’re done. I’m sorry. 

And then you dissolved into tears. And not pretty ones. You blubbered pathetically, tears and snot mixing, your whole body convulsing. You had done this to yourself. Peter had been your first friend and your first love. You had watched him fall for girl after girl, but your heart had always been set on just him. And when you found that he wanted you back? You had jumped without thinking. You knew he was Spiderman, but you didn’t care. More importantly, he was Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker. 

Not anymore. 

You awoke in the morning to the persistent blaring of your alarm, eyes sandy, head pounding. Your heart broke all over again when last night’s events replayed themselves. You hauled yourself out of bed. Despite the circumstances, you were less than willing to ruin your perfect attendance. 

Walking through the hallways without the knowledge that Peter would be at your locker made the building feel cold and lifeless. Small things that you didn’t realize would change, did. You supposed that was how heartbreak worked though. Everything unraveled, leaving you to pick up the mess. You had to start over. 

A hand on your shoulder shook you from your daze. It was… Peter. You should’ve known he’d try to change your mind. Yet, he was smiling as if last night had never happened. Had you sent those messages? You definitely had. 

“Peter, I can’t do this right now,” you sighed, forcibly removing his hand from your shoulder. You tried to keep your face neutral, though your heart was still shattered. 

He cocked his head, the smile sliding off his face. “Do what? Y/N, are you mad at me?” 

“Yeah, you could say that,” 

“Why- oh shit Y/N, the date. Oh my god. I am so sorry-”

“You know what? It’s fine, you would think I’d be used to it. Are we done here?”

“No, I have to explain. There was this guy, and he was trying to, like, shoot Mr. Stark, and then I had to come in last minute, and then my phone died and I haven’t checked it since yesterday morning. God, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” 

If his phone had been dead… oh god, he hasn’t heard the messages. You panicked. 

“Peter, check your phone, it’s important,” you couldn’t bear to be present when your messages rang in his ears, when his smile dimmed, and his head drooped. You couldn't stomach the sight of him rushing outside, slumping against the school, head landing in his hands. Wondering how he lost the best thing in his life. 

But in his collapsed state is where he decided that he wouldn’t let you go that easily. He could fix this. 

And so he stood up, determined. He stalked up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you into an abandoned classroom. 

“Peter, what the fu-”

“I- I get it okay? You broke up with me. But, I dunno,” his confidence started to fade. He hadn’t planned out what he was to say, “I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Just give me another chance? Please?”

You couldn’t take it. Lack of sleep, sadness, and annoyance mingled, forming a hard clump of anger that writhed in your stomach. It hurt too much to hear him talk like this when all you wanted to do was fall back into his arms, but you refused. You knew it wouldn’t change. You snapped. 

“Shut up! Just- shut up” you yelled, “I’m do-” “Y/N, please just listen,” “Listen? When have you ever listened to me? Heard one thing I’ve ever said? Peter, you look right through me every time. I just- leave.” You yelled, trying to convey the endless nights spent waiting, the problems swept to the side every time he showed up beaten and bruised. Every explanation treated as enough to heal the hurt. 

“Leave right now,” you turned, voice rock hard. 

“Is that- is that really what you want?” 

“Yes.” You heard the door closing softly, and sank to the ground. All conviction lost. 

Peter, on the other hand, seemed untouched by the interaction. He spent the rest of the day brainstorming ways to win your heart back. Over a lunch of indistinguishable mystery meat and sodden salad from the school’s cafeteria, he told Ned and MJ everything. The latter immediately trailed over to your table to provide condolences, and sarcastic comments, after agreeing to help. They both admitted that you two were meant to be. As MJ put it, “Who else would put up with you?”

Thus began the master plan that had been drawn up over lunch.

The next day you almost tripped over a carefully arranged vase of daffodils and tulips- your favorite flowers- that were perched on your front step. Attached was a hastily scrawled note:

I’m not letting you go that easy,

xox

Peter

You rolled your eyes. You were not in the mood for games. But knowing Peter he wouldn’t be persuaded to stop, and would also give up within the day. A week at the most. 

Coming to the conclusion that you would just ignore the flowers, you unlocked your car only to find it obnoxiously stuffed full of balloons in every hue. How had he even gotten into your car? Sighing in exasperation you gathered all the balloons, taking time to set them on your kitchen counter for your mom to find later. 

Walking into school, later than you’d like to be thanks to the impromptu ballooning, you opened your locker, but instead of being greeted with your bulky textbooks, an abundance of roses tumbled out. Your cheeks turned bright red, embarrassingly similar to the flowers strewn across the hallway as heads turned. 

“Oh god Peter,” you mumbled, doing your best to stuff the gift back in your locker. Your heart couldn’t help but flip at the thoughtful, if not a bit aggravating, surprise. 

After a mind-numbing day, empty of any more surprises, you were convinced that Peter had abandoned his pursuits. Yet as you opened the front door, you were confronted by the sight of a colossal assortment of seemingly every one of your favorite foods. That boy knew what he was doing, food was the key to your heart. 

Grabbing a pack of Cheetos, you trailed up to your room. You went back and forth, call Peter or not? You were more than ready to flop on your bed to reassess the situation, and your feelings, but a shopping bag stopped you. Peering into it, you realized it contained a fall-scented candle, a gold necklace with your favorite gem, the lotion you applied every day, and a signed copy of your all-time favorite book. All the things you had mentioned in passing to Peter. On the inside cover of the book, he had scribbled: 

I told you I listened,

xox 

Peter

Tears sprung to your eyes. This gifts in no way healed the things said nights before, but they came pretty damn close. As you admired the presents once again, you found a photograph of you and Peter that you had missed the first time around. Your arms were thrown around his neck, and his on your waist, you were both looking at each other with such adoration you could remember the moment as clearly as if you were still trapped in the pristine moment. Turning it over, you found he had left another note. 

I have so much left to say to you. Meet me in the Theater at 7. Please. 

xox

Peter,

Though you knew it was a bad idea to meet him there, you found yourself outside the school’s auditorium at seven on the dot. For once, you didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know whether you would fall back into his arms, or turn your back a final time. All you knew was that this was it. Whatever decision you made would be ultimate. 

Taking a deep breath, you pushed through the double doors, taking long strides towards the dramatic red curtain that veiled the stage. As you walked, you heard the creaking of the curtain being pulled back. As it revealed what was hiding behind it, your breath left your lungs in a gasp. 

The entire stage, or rather, the ten feet above the stage, was choked with pictures and notes hanging from twine. As you stepped closer, you began to make out the individuals. There was the copy of the photo Peter had left you on your bed, another one of you and May laughing, unaware of the picture being taken, and another one of you and Peter spinning around the day you visited the beach, and countless others. Tiny fragments of perfect moments captured. 

And the notes. They made your eyes glisten. There were notes Peter had passed you in class: 

Mr. Scores, more like Mr. SNORES. 

I love having a smart girlfriend. Your presentation was amazing. 

Some were doodles you had both drawn. But most of them were notes you had never seen before, 

I love you and the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. 

I love you because you make me smile even when I promise to never smile again. 

You changed my life without even trying and you’ll never know how much you mean to me. 

I love you. 

You spun, furiously wiping away tears, when you heard someone gently clear their throat. It was Peter. 

“Hi,” he whispered hoarsely, taking a step forward, “So, um, do you like it? MJ and Ned helped me do it. And the other gifts? Those were harder. But I just wanted to show you that I do listen. And you’ll always be my number one. From now on, I promise. I won’t bail again. I love you a lot more than you know. I don’t know where I stand with you, all I know is that you’re all I want. So… one more try?”

All the while he had been stepping towards you. Realizing you were almost chest to chest, both breathing a little too heavily, you took one big step backward. Putting up your hands as if to ward him off, you said “You really think you can win me back with a few well thought out gifts, and pictures, and notes? You think I’ll just fall right back into your arms?” 

“Um… yes?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed to come to decision, and took another step forward, “You’ve always been a sucker for a cliché,” And suddenly you were chest to chest, and you were looking at his lips, and he was looking at yours. 

“Can I maybe kiss you now?” You nodded, a smile finally creeping over your face as you wrapped your arms around him, raveling them in his soft curls. 

“I missed you,” he muttered into your lips. 

You walked out an hour later, hand in hand, a plastic bag full of all the photos and notes that you planned to tack up around your room. 

“So are we good now?” Peter asked, 

“If you promise to TELL me if you have to bail. I can’t very well ask you to abandon the Avengers for me,”

“Ok, good, because I spent all my allowance on those roses and if you would’ve said no, I was gonna buy you a puppy,”

“I love you and the gifts, but I wouldn’t say no to a puppy,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send requests!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed. ill try to update every few days.


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